That Milton Girl
by Lights Frost
Summary: Maria Thornton is the child of her parents' two worlds and their only daughter. Her somewhat standard childhood has given way to a life led by an unusual young lady who scorns social conventions and follows her heart, wherever it may lead. Even if it leads to one who will not return her affection.
1. Miss Maria Thornton

Maria Thornton was not an average Milton girl. She was of the upper class with her father being perhaps the most successful mill master in the town but had a certain air about her that was the product of Southern gentility due to her mother. Maria was the youngest child of four and her parents' only daughter. Her eldest brother Oliver was ten years her senior and growing up he had been one of her closest companions.

When Margaret and John Thornton had at length received the little girl they had secretly wished for, it was easily decided to name her after Margaret's late mother, Maria. Unlike Maria Hale who had been victim to illness, Maria Thornton had inherited the iron constitution of her father and at the age of six, her parents could happily boast that she had never taken ill a day in her life.

She had always been an energetic child since the moment she was born. Her grandmother, a stern and somber woman, had taken an immediate liking to the girl. The old Mrs. Thornton valued strength of character above all else and believed her granddaughter possessed a great deal of it. Mrs. Thornton had gone as far as to say she was proud the child bore her name, Hannah, as her second name.

One particular incident had pleased Mrs. Thornton excessively. She had been standing at the drawing room window, looking out on her four grandchildren as they played in the yard. The game was obviously rather rough and the three boys were being rather careless in their treatment of their young sister who could have been no more than four years old. A friendly game quickly turned into a tussle between the two middle boys who managed to barrel over their sister in their distraction. Little Maria had been knocked over but had quickly recovered, scrambling to her feet while clutching a small stone in her hand. Having seen the child fall, Mrs. Thornton had hurried outside as quickly as she could to be certain Maria was not injured. The child had met her at the door, still clutching the rock. Dry eyed, the girl had shown her grandmother the deep and bruised scrape on her knee. If such an injury had occurred to one of the boys, Mrs. Thornton knew not one of them would have handled it with such strength and grace.

Shortly after that event, one of the properties in Milton owned by Margaret came up for lease. It was one of the larger homes available in the town and was only a short time without a tenant. The new family that moved in was of the name Taylor. Mr. Taylor was a promising young banker from the South who had prior connections in Milton. Maria could remember the day he and his family had arrived at the Thorntons' to call and pay their respects to their landlord. The Taylors' had three small children, a girl of eight and two boys of seven and three, respectively. Within minutes of being introduced, Maria had befriended the elder of the two Taylor boys and would spend several years of her young life in his company.

Maria lost her grandmother when she was twelve years of age. The blow had been devastating for none of the family could believe that Mrs. Hannah Thornton was human enough to die, they had merely assumed she would live for eternity. Following this hardship, the Taylor family – now very close friends to the Thorntons – removed back to London and over time the connection was lost. Having lost her dearest friends (her grandmother to death, her brother to college in Oxford, and "that Taylor boy" to London) Maria made the transition from a headstrong girl of boyish habits to a gentile young lady.

At the age of eighteen, the people of Milton said the young Miss Thornton was "striking" in appearance. She was tall and stately with a purposeful manner of walking that was reminiscent of her father. Her open face was similar to her mother's but her eyes were identical to her father's. Her hair was black as a raven's wing, as her father's had been in his youth. She had learned practicality at the hand of her father and compassion at her mother's knee. She was a proud creature. She was gentle and kind but fierce and severe with a sharp temper. She was in essence, a product of her parents' once separate worlds. She was a child of the North and South.


	2. An Interlude in London

"Mama?" Maria called. She did not need her mother's presence but preferred to have a companion when faced with Aunt Fanny. "Mama, Aunt Fanny and Isabella are outside! Oh dear, I do believe they are coming in!"

Margaret Thornton was always composed and patient when faced with a visit from her airy sister-in-law, much more so than her daughter could ever dream of being. Upon hearing Maria's call, Margaret swept into the drawing room where the girl was gazing out the window, her eyes sparkling with delight at her own mock distress.

"Maria, you mustn't say your every thought. Remember, Fanny has recently lost her husband," her mother chided gently as she came to join her by the window.

"Oh, Mama! You know I only speak my mind to you!"

"And your father, and your brothers, and your cousins, and your aunt, and the servants, and your every acquaintance." Margaret smiled at her daughter.

Maria blushed, giving her appearance a pleasing rose hue. Before she could respond to her mother's comment, her aunt Fanny and cousin Isabella were announced and marched into the drawing room. Despite her husband having been buried for only the past two months, Fanny was dressed in a gown of offensively brilliant colors with her daughter similarly adorned. They reminded Maria of outlandish birds and she had to work to stifle a smile.

Aunt Fanny's visits were always trying on Maria's patience. While she did love her aunt and cousin dearly, she could not stand to listen to useless chatter for more than an hour. Maria enjoyed being employed at some task and was ill suited for idle banter about such frivolous topics as gowns and lace. As it were, Aunt Fanny had come to inquire about a much more momentous topic.

"Isabella and myself will be going to London," Aunt Fanny announced after pleasantries had been exchanged.

"London?" echoed Margaret, surprised.

"Yes, London. We have some very close acquaintances there." Fanny exchanged a meaningful glance with her daughter who had very recently celebrated her sixteenth birthday. Fanny could hardly wait to introduce young Isabella to London society. "We hope to spend a couple of months in town."

"And what of Edward?" Maria asked. Edward was Fanny's delicate son who often complained of poor health. "Will not the journey be difficult for him?"

Fanny and Isabella shared another glance. "I've come here to make a proposition. An exchange. Edward has no desire to go to London, he's much like dear Mama that way – God rest her soul – and so Isabella suggested we ask dear Maria to join our little party."

Three sets of eyes turned toward Maria expectantly and she eloquently stated her thanks for the offer before turning the matter over to her mother. Margaret would have to speak with her husband, though she could foresee no conflicts with the plan. In fact, it would be the perfect opportunity for Maria to visit her godmother, Edith, at Harley Street while they were in town.

Fanny and Isabella were invited to dinner but politely declined and took their leave. As soon as they were shown out, both sets of mothers and daughters fell into private conversations.

* * *

"Uncle will let her go, won't he?" inquired Isabella the moment she was settled in the carriage. She had a great respect for her elegant older cousin and great faith in her social charms. "I can't imagine being in London society without dear Maria."

"John can be a little unreasonable," Fanny paused as she arranged her skirts, "but he cannot possibly have an objection to our little trip. Especially if Margaret were to convince him."

Isabella gazed pensively at her folded hands. Sitting in such a quiet attitude was difficult for her but she had often seen Margaret and Maria be as still as stone for hours, looking quite respectable. She was practicing but she nearly always forgot herself after a few moments. "I do hope she will come."

* * *

"Do you believe Papa will allow it?"

Margaret rested her hand under her daughter's chin and looked into her eyes, so like her father's. "He will if you wish to go. Do you wish to?"

Maria crossed the room to the mahogany piano, trailing her hand across the closed lid. She did want to see London and her relations at Harley Street but she had always found Fanny's incessant chatter and Isabella's obvious adoration grated on her tremendously. And then Maria considered the alternative. If she declined her aunt's offer, there would be no one to set a proper example for the naïve Isabella. "I feel as though I must."

* * *

Dinner in the Thornton household was a more subdued affair than usual. Mr. Thornton related the events of his day at the mill and his wife and daughter listened politely, with little more to add then a handful of necessary comments.

"What's the matter tonight?" Mr. Thornton asked as a lengthy silence stretched on. "Never before have I had to be content to listen to the sound of my own voice."

Maria smiled warmly. "You have a wonderful voice, Papa. It would be a true shame to interrupt it."

"And you have a way with pretty speeches, Maria. You did not learn that from me." Mr. Thornton feigned severity but his daughter's light and teasing moods pleased him immensely. They were displays of her amiable spirit.

Margaret smiled at her husband and youngest child. "She learned it from Oliver, the silver-tongued. That boy is able to charm his way out of any situation."

"Is that what you're attempting?" Mr. Thornton asked his wife. "To charm me into forgetting your reserve this evening? Come, or I may begin to think something wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, Papa," Maria assured him. "Aunt Fanny called today. She wishes for me to accompany my cousin to London."

"What of Edward?"

"He wishes to remain in Milton," Margaret explained. "He is rather like your mother in that sense."

Mr. Thornton studied his wife and daughter, noticing the similarities between them, contrasting them to Fanny and Isabella. With a sigh, he agreed with the conclusion Maria had stated to her mother earlier. He truly felt that for the sake of propriety, Maria must be sent – as a chaperone.


End file.
